Lex looked at his watch for the millionth time that night, laying on the floor despite Clark's insistence that it was his turn to take the bed. 11:56. He'd been looking forward to this, but now that the time was almost here, he was almost regretting having agreed to the fight.

Not that he was afraid. He definitely wasn't afraid of Dean, even though Dean had won the basketball game earlier. Clark and Lex had been winning—Clark was small, but he was fast, and his aim was amazing. But then Clark had run into Sam, Sam had fallen and needed a band-aid for his scraped elbow, and Mr. Kent had taken Clark aside to scold him. Clark came back deflated with swollen eyes, and Lex and Clark never made another basket.

Lex put on his cap and tightened the strap in the back—not that it would do any good, since Dean was almost certain to knock it off. He tiptoed out of Clark's room and slipped outside.

The cold air bit at his skin. Lex almost wished he was wearing more than a t-shirt and shorts, but he needed his full range of motion tonight.

Dean was already there. He'd been pacing, but when Lex arrived, he stopped and crossed his arms.

"You're late," Dean said.

"Your watch is off," Lex said. Dean was dressed more warmly, but he'd also been out in the cold for longer. Lex hoped that would work to his advantage. He'd known Dean was bigger than he was, but he felt especially aware of it now. He was also starting to feel nauseous with guilt for fighting on the Kent property. The Kents had been nothing but kind to them.

Dean must have noticed his hesitance. "Scared?"

Hearing Dean's mocking voice aggravated him. It reminded him why he was here. "Not likely." Lex braced himself, placing his feet in a fight stance and remembering what his trainer taught him. "Let's agree—no hits below the belt. No blows to the face. No marks the Kents can see."

"No promises," Dean said.

Lex swallowed hard—it had been worth a try. "Ready?"

Dean cracked his knuckles. "Let's do this, Luthor."

----------------------------------------

Over the years, Sam had run into a fair number of bullies that Dean had had to deal with when no one was looking. He knew how to teach someone a lesson. He was never overly cruel about it—the point wasn't to kill them or even torture them. The point was to make them regret what they'd said, to teach them that it was always a bad idea to mess with Winchesters. To protect Sam. The trick was to intimidate more than scar, for the fear to be worse than the pain.

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If Dean was angry enough to find the revenge satisfying, well, that was just a perk.

This was no different from that. Lex had no loyalty to his own family, and he'd insulted Dean's. Dean had also found a newspaper with some stories about the Luthors—Dean should have known he was a rich kid. It was always the rich ones that acted like that. Dean almost felt sorry for the guy, but sorry didn't do anyone any good. He didn't feel sorry for himself for his own situation. Lex still had to learn his lesson.

Dean swung his fist, just slow enough to let Lex dodge—and Lex did. He was breathing just a little faster when he came back up.

He swung again, and again, each time allowing Lex to dodge, but never giving him any time to swing back. Then he faked out a left handed punch and swung for real—only to feel a sharp kick to his side, just under the rib cage. He grunted and straightened up. Lex smirked.

This little punk could actually fight!

No need to waste energy trying to fake him out, then. Dean couldn't afford to exhaust himself. He started throwing punches hard and fast. Less than half connected. He hit harder than Lex did, but Lex landed more hits. Meanwhile, Dean had counted on Lex having a low pain tolerance, but Dean was really starting to hurt, and Lex didn't seem to be slowing down.

He needed to catch Lex by surprise. He aimed a punch to Lex's face, and Lex held up a hand to block. The block succeeded, but Lex ended up knocking his cap off.

Reflexively, Dean stepped back.

He had already known Lex was bald. The cap didn't really cover it. But seeing the completely smooth, pale skin was still startling. Lex's face turned bright red—as red as Dean would have been if he'd suddenly looked down and realized he was naked.

Dean looked down. "Uh, okay, time out."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched Lex put the hat back on and resume the fight stance, panting a little. "Okay," Lex said.

Dean raised his fists again, but a scream rang out in the distance.

Both of them froze. It didn't come from inside the house. It wasn't from the direction of the cabin where Sam and Dean had been, either—it was in the other direction.

"You heard that?" Dean asked.

Lex nodded. He turned to face in the direction it had come from. "From over there."

"What's over there? Do you know?"

Lex shook his head. "I haven't been around Smallville much. I—"

He was cut off when Mr. Kent came up behind both of them. He grabbed one of each of their ears and started dragging them back toward the house.

Dean had to trot to keep up. "Mr. Kent, it's not—"

"Save it. I saw you two from out of the window."

Lex said, "How did you—"

"Clark heard you leave the house."

Dean winced at a harder tug, but Mr. Kent let them go as soon as they were in the house, depositing each of them in a chair at the dinner table. Dean wanted to press his cold hand against his burning ear, but Lex didn't touch his ear at all, so Dean left his alone. It was probably better that way—he needed to keep listening for more screaming. If he heard anything else, he was going to run to help, no matter what Mr. Kent or anyone else said.

"Now," Mr. Kent said, sitting across from them. "Explain."